


Meet Me In The Hallway

by j__writes



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Background Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Magnus Bane & Simon Lewis Friendship, Meet-Cute, POV Simon, Pining, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j__writes/pseuds/j__writes
Summary: Simon has been pining after his neighbor, who lives one floor below him, for a while now. Sadly, she's married to someone who is devastatingly gorgeous and so he's resigned to pine in silence. Luckily, his new friend Magnus is more observant than he is.





	Meet Me In The Hallway

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [3B Countdown Calendar](https://twitter.com/3BCountdown). A big thank you to [CryptidBane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetus/pseuds/CryptidBane) for organizing all of this. And be sure to check out the collection for great fics by great authors being added daily! 
> 
> It's just a oneshot but you can use #MMITHfic if you'd like to tweet, I'd love to see your reactions :)

It’s nearing six when Simon’s buzzer finally goes off, announcing his colleague Magnus’ arrival. He opens the door to his loft, leaving it open a crack so that Magnus can help himself in whenever he reaches the eighth floor where Simon lives. He has their work on the table, ready and waiting for them to get started. It’s a week night and Simon has already put in a lot of hours so the last thing he wants to do is work some more when he could be binge watching _The Walking Dead._

“Simon?” There’s a soft knock and then Magnus steps in. “I’m assuming you wanted me to let myself in,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

Simon grins at him. “Yep, mi casa es su casa.”

Magnus smiles at that and holds up a bottle of red wine. “Fuel for the long night.”

Simon laughs, it’s nervous and awkward and he hates it. But he really doesn’t want to show just how much of a lightweight he is to his new, super cool, co-worker. Who, he has it on good authority, can really hold his alcohol. “I’ll get the glasses.”

He’s quick to pour them each a glass and he’s handing it to Magnus when Magnus’ brows lower and he angles his ear towards Simon’s balcony. “Is that music?”

Music? Simon doesn’t remember turning on any music. Did Magnus want music? That would be weird, right? Simon isn’t trying to set a mood with his co-worker. Although Magnus is an incredibly attractive man, Simon views him as a friend and only a friend since the first time they met. He listens carefully and then he hears it, the soft notes of a melody that always springs his heart back to life in the most frenzied way.

“Oh shit. It’s Thursday.”

Magnus lifts a brow. “It is. Is that supposed to mean something?”

Simon can feel his face warm and his palms sweat. He needs to keep his cool but he really wants to go outside and just see for himself if she’s out there.

“Hello? Earth to Simon.” Magnus snaps his fingers in his face.

“Hm?” Simon’s attention snaps back to Magnus who is staring at him curiously, wine glass dangling between two fingers.

“What’s so special about Thursday night?”

“Nothing!” Simon exclaims too quickly to pull off the casual and cool he was going for. “It’s nothing.”

Magnus’ eyes narrow on him now. “I don’t believe you. What’s the music about?”

Simon shrugs. “It’s really nothing. Just my neighbor downstairs.”

Magnus continues to watch him and Simon knows that he’s not going to let this go until Simon explains it all. So he does. Hell, what does he have to lose?

“My neighbor below me,” Simon explains. “Every Thursday night she plays music and dances.”

“Ooh.” Magnus’ mouth curves up. “You got a _thing_ for your neighbor, Simon?”

Simon chuckles and adjusts his glasses. “Doesn’t matter. She’s married.”

Magnus’ face pulls back into a wince. “Tough luck, my friend.” His eyes light up before he turns on his heel towards Simon’s balcony. “I want to see this beautiful neighbor.”

Simon rushes after him. “No, no, really, it’s not necessary. It’s just a stupid, longing from afar type of crush. Nothing I ever intended on acting on. Well, obviously, since she’s married and also because I don’t think I could ever even breathe in her presence. Actually, maybe you should have a look and then you can tell me if she’s even real. Maybe I just imagined the perfect woman. It would make sense, I’ve been a little lonely since my break up with Maia. Oh my God. Did I invent someone?”

They’re on the balcony now and Magnus is watching him, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. “Did you even breathe during that entire”—he waves at Simon—“whatever that was?”

“Yes? I think so,” Simon breathes out. His nerves are getting the best of him.

“I’m going to look over the railing now,” Magnus says this cautiously as if Simon is a ticking time bomb. He peers over the railing and hums. “Well, I can confirm that she is not a figment of your imagination. And she’s very beautiful.” He smirks. “And so is her husband. I mean, I can only see the back of his head but I can tell just from the back of his head that he’s absolutely beautiful.”

Simon huffs. He’s seen her husband. He’s tall, has dark hair, and is so incredibly handsome it almost made Simon cry. One, because of the sheer beauty and two, because life isn’t fair to have her married to someone so gorgeous. It figures though. He finds the woman of his dreams and then finds out a week later that she’s married.

Magnus is leaning forward now, really focusing in on them.

“Magnus, they might see you,” Simon whispers and tugs on his new friend’s shirt to pull him back.

Magnus steps away from the balcony and sips at his wine. “How do you know they’re married? I don’t see any rings.”

“You don’t see any—Is that what you were doing?”

Magnus rolls his eyes and then rises on his toes to try and peer over the railing again from this distance. “Well, duh. You said they were married and I was looking for confirmation. And I saw no rings on that lovely man’s lovely hand. Honestly”—Magnus fans himself—“I think I am absolutely smitten.”

“You saw the back of his head,” Simon deadpans, pressing his fists against his hips.

“And his profile,” Magnus quips with a smile and pointed finger. “And it was a lovely profile.”

“Alright, alright. Can we not talk about how her husband is the perfect specimen of a man? I’d like to at least still be able to daydream that they’ll break up. And then we’ll bump into each other casually in the lobby, I’ll actually say hi, sparks will fly, and then we’ll live happily ever after. I can dance every Thursday night too, ya know?”

Magnus’ smile is sympathetic and he reaches up to touch Simon’s cheek, giving it a soft pat. “That’s quite the dream you have there.” And then he’s leaving Simon on the balcony, shouting over his shoulder. “Come on, Romeo, work isn’t going to finish itself!”

 

_Next Thursday_

There’s a knock on Simon’s door that makes him jump in his seat on the couch, upsetting his bowl of popcorn. “Who the hell…”

He swings the door open and finds Magnus standing there a wicked smile on his face. “Good evening, my favorite co-worker.”

Simon stares, confused. “Uh, hi. What are you doing here?”

Magnus walks past him and into the loft. “That’s not any way to greet a friend. I know your lovely mother taught you better.”

Simon shuts the door and shakes his head. “Sorry. I just… I didn’t know we made plans tonight?”

“Oh. We didn’t.” Magnus flashes him a quick grin over his shoulder as he invites himself further into Simon’s loft and then helps himself to a wine glass from Simon’s cupboard.

Simon scratches at the spot on his nose where his glasses rest. “Then, excuse me for asking, what are you doing here?”

Magnus uncorks the wine and pours himself a hefty glass of the red liquid. “It’s Thursday night.” His eyes drift over to Simon’s balcony and Simon gets it.

“No.” He walks over and stands between Magnus and his balcony doors. “Tell me you did not come all the way over here to check out my neighbor’s husband.”

Magnus takes a lazy sip of his wine, eyes glimmering in amusement. “Do you want me to lie to you?”

Simon groans. “I can’t believe this.”

“Just for one dance,” Magnus negotiates. “Please.”

Simon sighs. “Fine. I guess. Although this goes against my new _I’m trying to get over my married neighbor_ thing.”

Magnus unlocks to double doors. “Sorry to create a setback in your plan.”

Simon goes to pour himself a glass of wine. He can hear the music playing in the distance. He had actually forgotten all about his usual Thursday night plans of watching his neighbor dance with her husband. Which makes him feel creepy the more he lets himself think on it. He takes a swig of the red wine and makes a retching sound at the bold flavor he’s not used to. He’s more of a sweet wine kind of guy. He follows Magnus outside. “Next time bring a bottle of moscato.”

Magnus grins as he leans against the balustrade. “Next time.”

Great. Looks like Simon isn’t going to be breaking out of his Thursday night ritual any time soon.

 

_Three Thursdays later_

Magnus chuckles. “This is…the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done. And I’ve done a lot of ridiculous things in my life, believe me.”

Simon sips at the sweet moscato Magnus has started bringing every Thursday night per Simon’s request. “What? Getting tipsy with your co-worker who is silently longing for his married neighbor.”

Magnus nods, throwing back the rest of his wine. “And joining you in the silent longing for a married neighbor part. Different neighbor though.” He winks.

Simon laughs softly. “I’ve dragged you down to my level. What a pair we make.” He leans forward, the floor swirling beneath him and clinks his glass against Magnus’.

“Dragged down?” Magnus asks, fixing Simon with a disapproving stare, pulling his wine glass away.

“Yeah. You’re like, _really_ handsome and could probably have any guy or girl that you want and now I’ve got you pining over a married man.”

Magnus holds a hand up. “I’m stopping you right there. You are a good looking guy.” He points at Simon’s chest. “I won’t let you sell yourself short. _So what_ if we’re pining over a married couple, it’s not like we’ll be doing this forever. We’re allowed to have our couple months of pining.”

Simon laughs into his wine glass and then he hears his neighbor’s laugh drift up to them. He sighs. “No harm in just admiring from afar. It’s not like I’m trying to wreck their home or anything.” He glances over at them. They’ve stopped dancing and she’s laughing hard at something her husband must have said. “They look happy.”

Magnus bumps into him when he settles beside him, somehow he has more wine in his glass already. He hums and then sighs wistfully and then straightens up. “We’ve never seen them kiss.”

“What?”

Magnus looks at him and he suddenly seems way too sober for Simon. “We have never seen them kiss. They don’t do anything but dance and then talk with wine. They don’t sit next to each other, they don’t hold hands. Simon!”

“What?” Simon gulps. He finds he doesn’t like this crazed look Magnus is getting.

“I don’t think they’re actually married.” Magnus unwinds the black and silver diamond patterned scarf from around his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting our answers.”

“Oh my God, Magnus, don’t—”

Magnus lets go of his scarf without even a second thought and then Simon watches, in complete and utter horror, as the sheer material drifts down towards her balcony.

“I better not lose that scarf, it’s my favorite,” Magnus mutters into his wine.

“Why the hell did you just throw it over my balcony then?!”

“Oh shit.” Magnus laughs into his hand.

Simon sneaks a glance and sees that Magnus’ scarf has landed directly over the man’s head. “Oh shit.”

The man’s arms swat at the material in a panic and after a few seconds of struggling with it—because it’s honestly the biggest scarf Simon has ever seen—he rips the material away and then he looks up and Magnus sucks in a breath beside Simon.

“Wow,” he breathes out, long and slow.

“Magnus,” Simon growls under his breath.

Magnus grins at the man and then shouts, “I’m so sorry about that! I’ll be right down to get that from you!” And then he’s running back into Simon’s loft.

“Are you going down there for real?”

Magnus nods, sliding his shoes on. “ _We_ are going down there, Simon.”

“ _We_ are drunk, Magnus,” Simon feels the need to remind him of this fact. Although, he has to admit, he’s sobering up pretty fast at the prospect of going down there and seeing the beautiful couple face-to-face.

Magnus ignores him and walks out of Simon’s loft, leaving Simon to rush after him as they try not to stumble down the stairs. Magnus steadies himself and then turns to Simon, breathing in deep and running a hand down his vest. “How do I look?”

A little wobbly, Simon thinks. But that’s just the tipsiness. He focuses in and tries to really look at Magnus’ appearance. “Good,” he says, decidedly. He’s pretty sure that’s the truth since he has never seen Magnus look anything but good.

Magnus nods and then musses with Simon’s hair and straightens his glasses. “We’re ready,” he declares with a grin.

“Okay… so their apartment must be…this one!” Magnus knocks on the door and Simon stands back, hands shoved in his pockets.

The lock on the door slides and Simon swallows roughly. He’s one-hundred percent not ready for this.

“What do you want?” A crotchety growl asks.

Magnus stills, mouth open. “Uh.”

The old lady stares angrily at Magnus, rollers set tight in her hair.

“I think you meant to knock on this door.”

Simon whips his head to the deep voice that sounds just as good as he would expect of someone so handsome. Except the man standing there, looming tall in the doorway is anything but handsome. He’s…

“Holy shit,” Simon whispers.

Magnus apologizes to the elderly lady and then, much cooler than Simon could ever hope to be, he walks over to the man- a sway to his hips. “ _You_ are exactly who I was looking for.”

The man smiles, chin dipping low, and Simon can almost swear he’s blushing. He doesn’t dare to get closer to find out though.

“I’m terribly sorry for dropping my scarf on your head like that,” Magnus says, voice smooth.

The man holds the scarf in his hands and he looks down at it before holding it out to Magnus. “Nothing to be sorry for. It was just an accident.”

Magnus reaches out for the scarf and takes it with one hand, the other man still holding onto it as well.

“What the fuck is happening?” Simon whispers under his breath from his spot one door down.

“Do you—uh—live in this building?” The man’s eyes flicker down…way down Magnus’ body.

_Holy shit. He’s checking Magnus out._ Simon’s senses are on high alert and yes, he’s definitely sobered up now.

“I don’t.”

The man’s expression falls.

“But my friend does.” Magnus points at him and Simon waves sheepishly when the man looks at him. “So I do visit often.”

“Great,” the man says, his mouth jumping into a crooked smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around then?”

“Do you have a name or do I just need to drop my scarf on your head next time I’m over?”

The man laughs. “Alec.”

“Magnus.”

“Well, Magnus. Next Thursday.”

“Next Thursday?”

The man nods. “You can drop your scarf on my head next Thursday. It’s when I usually come over to visit my sister.” The man turns to point at what Simon assumes is his neighbor and Magnus takes that moment to wink at Simon.

_Sister?_ Simon mouths and Magnus nods enthusiastically, playing it cool again when the man turns back to face him.

“Well, if your sister ever needs anything. Helping hand to lift something or any handiwork, she can just knock on Simon’s door. He’d be more than happy to help.”

The man looks at Simon in question and Simon nods, finally stepping forward, wiping his sweating palms on his jeans. “Yes, of course. Anything she needs. I’m her guy.”

Alec looks him over, unimpressed and then smirks - a devastating thing - before his eyes trail back to Magnus. “Right. I’ll let her know.”

“My name’s Simon,” Simon blurts out, “Simon Lewis. Two first names.”

Alec’s eyes find him again and he straightens up taller - somehow, considering he’s already a giant, a beautiful giant- and Simon can see Magnus catch his breath as he looks on at Alec’s higher stance. “My sister’s name is Isabelle.”

“Isabelle,” Simon sighs.

“Next week,” Magnus announces, stepping back in Simon’s direction.

Alec’s mouth curves up into a crooked grin. “Next week, Magnus,” he confirms.

“Great,” Magnus breathes out, turning on his heels and grabbing Simon’s arm on his way, practically dragging him up the stairs. They continue on in silence until they reach Simon’s loft and they have the door secured behind them.

“Did you just bag a date with my beautiful neighbor’s beautiful brother?” Simon asks, his back resting against the door of his loft, while Magnus paces back and forth with his hand on his chest.

“Something like that,” Magnus says and then chuckles.

“And I didn’t even get to meet my neighbor. Great.” Simon knocks his head back against the door and listens on as Magnus tries to explain how everything is going to work out perfectly because at least now she knows of Simon’s existence which was more than Simon could say thirty minutes ago.

 

_Next Thursday_

“Explain to me why you’re even coming to my loft? I mean, the dude basically said he wanted to see you. Why didn’t you just go over there?” Simon asks, following after Magnus who entered his home unannounced and headed directly for his balcony doors.

“Because,” Magnus drawls out, “he told me to drop a scarf on his head.”

“I’m sure he was joking about that.” Simon snorts and meets Magnus out on the balcony.

“Don’t worry, Simon, I don’t plan on being in your hair long.” Magnus leans on the railing and his smile lights up when he apparently spots Alec down below. “You really going to make me drop my scarf before inviting me down?” he calls down.

Simon stays in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He doesn’t know how this happened. How Magnus spent only a month of pining and has already made headway with the object of his affections, whilst Simon is still hear, pining and painfully not making any headway with his.

Magnus giggles at whatever tall, dark, and handsome lover-boy Alec says that Simon can’t hear and Simon rolls his eyes. He’s not bitter. He won’t be. He grins a grin that is all teeth when Magnus turns back around and walks past him.

“Told you I wouldn’t be here long,” he practically sings, heading for Simon’s front door.

“Great, so now you’re using me!” Simon calls after him. Magnus throws him a half-hearted wave and is out the door. “Have fun!” Simon shouts at the now closed door and then sighs. “Why is my luck so bad?”

 

_Three weeks later_

_“_ Hold on a second, Alec told you she’d be there?”

“ _Yep! So you should definitely go.”_

Simon tucks the cell phone against his cheek and shoulder and stares at the empty shelves of his refrigerator. “I don’t know, man… I wasn’t planning on it and now I don’t have anything to take.”

_“Don’t take anything, just go,”_ Magnus says, the rustling of paper in the background is loud and Simon can tell he’s only half-invested in their conversation.

“It’s a potluck, Magnus. I can’t just show up without a dish like some kind of freeloader.” Simon slams his refrigerator door shut and pushes his feet into his shoes. “I’m just gonna go to the store and make my mom’s burrata salad.”

_“Perfect. Call me after, tell me how it goes. Unless—unless you take her home. If that’s the case, I don’t want to hear about it until the next day.”_

Simon can’t help but laugh as he takes the stairs down to the lobby. “Doubt that’s gonna happen and please don’t tell Alec anything like that. He’s as terrifying as he is beautiful.”

_“Hm,”_ Magnus hums with what sounds like a full mouth. _“He is beautiful, isn’t he?”_

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… we’ve established that.” Simon walks down the sidewalk to the closest grocery store. “Look, I’m gonna let you go so I can focus on making a dish for this stupid party that’s starting in two hours.”

Magnus tuts. _“You sound mighty ungrateful for the intel I’ve provided you.”_

“Nope.” Simon shakes his head. “Not ungrateful. Just stressed now. It’s all good, I’m always on the edge of a panic attack so it’s not like this is anything new. I’ll be fine and I’ll make this salad and then I’ll see Isabelle and hope I can gather up the courage to actually speak to her.”

_“You can do it, Simon! I believe in you.”_ Magnus mutters something to someone in the background quickly. _“Okay, I gotta go too. Update me later!”_

Magnus ends the call before Simon can say goodbye and Simon feels suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he now has less than desirable time to prepare for coming face-to-face with the one Isabelle Lightwood. And despite Magnus having been dating her brother for the past three weeks, Simon still knows next to nothing about her. He calls his mom to get the recipe from her and grabs a grocery basket on his way into the store. The dish is always a hit at holiday gatherings and family dinners so he figures he can’t really go wrong with it. Besides, it’s not like he has many other choices, his cooking knowledge is severely limited and this recipe hardly requires culinary skills. She agrees to text him a list with instructions and Simon sets off for buying the ingredients he already knows he needs.

Two hours later he’s standing in the courtyard behind his apartment building. He’s lived here for four years and has never attended one of its many potlucks. He’s always imagined it’s full of overbearing neighbors that he honestly doesn’t want anything to do with—until now, and it’s really just the one particular neighbor he wants to meet. He hasn’t seen Isabelle yet so he decides to prepare a plate with a variety of dishes the other residents brought. He comes to what looks like an obscenely delicious macaroni and cheese that he scoops a generous serving of on his plate before grabbing a fork and walking off to a table to stand alone. He’s people watching and eating and he swears to God if Isabelle isn’t here and he did all of this for nothing, he’s going to go home and cry into a glass of moscato.

He sticks his fork into the macaroni and takes a large bite. Simon’s pretty sure there’s not a worse feeling in the world than expecting something to be ridiculously delicious and find, instead, that it’s a strange cacophony of sour, sweet, and dry yet somehow curdled cheese. He covers his mouth, pushing back the gag that rises in his throat. He forces himself to swallow and then takes a generous gulp of his soda. “What the fu—”

“Did you like it?”

Simon startles at the soft voice and then turns, his heart stopping and then violently starting up again at the sight of Isabelle standing there smiling at him. Her jet black hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, exposing the smooth shoulders that only have tiny straps connecting to the sunflower printed dress she’s wearing.

“H-hey,” Simon stutters and smiles at her, hoping to God that he doesn’t have any of the disgusting curdled macaroni stuck in his teeth or even worse, that his breath smells like that abomination of a dish. “Did I like it?”

She takes a step forward, teeth sinking into her flushed pink bottom lip, and points at the macaroni. “I made it,” she provides happily and Simon wants to die right then and there because he has a sickening feeling that he’s going to have to pretend to like the worst macaroni he’s ever eaten.

“It’s uh—” he scratches at his hair. “I’ve never had macaroni like it. Is it a - uh - family recipe?”

She nods. “My grandmother left a book of recipes that I’ve been trying to work through.”

“I see.”

She holds her hand out. “I’m Isabelle, by the way.”

“Simon. Simon Lewis.” He takes her hand in his, it’s soft yet strong when she gives his a shake.  

“I know. Your friend Magnus is dating my brother. Alec told me how you offered to help me if I ever need anything done around the loft. That was very sweet of you but you didn’t leave him your number so I could take you up on that offer.”

“I—” Simon sighs. “You’re right. That was very thoughtless of me.” Isabelle laughs and it’s an action that lights up her entire face and the sound fills the space around him.

“Lucky me you’re here then.”

“Lucky me.”

She joins him at the table. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal. Looks like you still have a lot left.”

Simon looks down at the large mound of offensive macaroni staring up at him. “I’m actually gonna take this home with me for later.”

She hums and gives a glance around the yard. “I’ve never seen you at one of these before.”

“That’s because I’ve never come to them.”

Her brows climb up. “Oh really? Why the change of heart for this one?”

He wonders for a minute if it would be too forward of him to tell her that he came just to see her and that thanks to her brother he knew for a fact that he would find her here but he decides against it, not wanting to scare her off so soon. She’s actually talking to him and smiling up at him like she’s truly interested in what he has to say and that in itself is a miracle he doesn’t want to ruin. “It felt like a good day to get out of the house,” is what he settles on and she returns the smile.

“Well, I’m glad you did, Simon.” Her large brown eyes look him over and her small smile slowly turns into a bright grin. “I’ve seen you around before and was hoping we’d get the chance to meet.”

Simon is quite sure he must be hearing things because there’s no way this beautiful woman has been wanting to meet him. “Y-you have?”

She nods, cheeks flushed pink. “I’ve seen you at the mailboxes but you never noticed me and I felt silly interrupting you when you’re trying to check your mail, so I never did.”

“Oh, you can interrupt me when I’m checking my mail, any time.”

She laughs again and Simon can’t help but smile at the sound and the way her face commits to the action.

“Maybe you can give me your number? That way if I ever need any help around the apartment, I can give you a call?” Her eyes flick down to his phone that sits on the table and she pulls hers out of a pocket in her dress.

“Yes!” Simon quickly unlocks his phone, bringing up a new contact form and then slides it over to her. She exchanges his phone for hers and he quickly punches in his name and number—and his apartment number in case she ever needs to stop by —for dinner, eggs, milk, a new boyfriend, whatever she might need.

He’s quite sure whatever request she makes of him, he will be more than happy to provide.

 

_Three Days Later_

Only three days pass before Simon’s phone is ringing, Isabelle’s name flashing on the screen. It’s Tuesday night, Simon has just finished working out and now he’s slightly panicking. He wipes his sweaty palms on his sweatpants and hastily answers her call. “Hello?”

_“Simon,”_ she greets him with his own name and breath of relief. _“I’m so glad you answered.”_

Of course he answered. Like he’s not going to answer a call from the girl he’s been crushing on for… he doesn’t even know how long it’s been now. “What’s going on?”

_“Do you, by any chance, know how to fix a leaky faucet?”_ She sounds breathless and desperate.

He thinks over his set of handyman skills, plumbing issues are not high on it but he’s tinkered around before and so he answers, “Absolutely. When do you need me to come down?”

_“Right now,”_ she rushes out. _“If you can. If it’s no trouble to you, I mean.”_

“No trouble, I’ll be right down.”

_“Thank you, Simon.”_

He hangs up, throws on the first shirt he finds that doesn’t smell like he hasn’t done laundry in a week, and digs out the mostly unused tool kit his mom bought him for Hanukkah. By the time he reaches the floor below him, he spots Isabelle standing in the hallway, hands planted on her hips, heaving out a deep dispirited groan.

“Hey,” he calls out to her and she turns to him with a tired smile.

“You are a lifesaver, thank you so much for coming to help.” She looks stressed and agitated. Her face is slightly damp with short black hairs wet and plastered down on her forehead in places.

“Having a little water trouble, I see.” Simon chuckles and reaches up, without thinking, to brush away a damp strand of hair that clings to her cheek.

Her cheeks flush and she rolls her eyes to look at her open apartment door. “It’s a mess in there and I’m in the middle of cooking dinner for my entire family. Of all days, it had to be today. I really don’t have time for this.”

Simon lifts his tool kit and grins at her. “Then we better get started.”

“Follow me,” she says and heads towards her apartment, looking over her shoulder to add, “please excuse the mess. I swear it’s never this messy in here.”

She stops at the entry of her kitchen, rubbing at her brow, her mouth pulled into a frown. “I should call everybody and just cancel. This is a disaster.” She closes her eyes and sighs. “I bit off more than I can chew.”

Simon sets his tools down on the cluttered counter top and then takes Isabelle’s hands in his, lowering them from her brow. “Hey,” he says softly. Her eyes blink open and she bites on her lip, holding back a cry. “I’ll fix this and help you clean. You focus on cooking, deal?”

Her eyes cast over his shoulder, taking in the mess in her kitchen and then she meets his gaze. “Simon, I can’t ask you to do all of that.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

“Yeah, but it’s too much.”

He shakes his head and takes a step back further into her kitchen, guiding her by her hands. “You cook. I’ll fix this leak and then clean. Turn some music on, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

Her shoulders shake with laughter before the sound comes out and then she nods at him, grinning all the while. She points at the sink behind him, as if the pool of water on the floor in front of it isn’t enough evidence of where the leak is coming from, and Simon reluctantly lets go of her other hand to get started on what he came to do. Isabelle ties an apron around her waist and then goes over to the small speaker on the counter and begins to play a variety of music that Simon definitely approves of. They work in silence, save for Isabelle’s humming and the sounds of her cooking. At times the dishes smell good and at other times, they smell pretty suspicious, and Simon silently hopes that she doesn’t ask him to taste anything. So, he busies himself with the sink, only referring to an online tutorial twice when Isabelle’s not looking. When he’s done, he replaces all of his tools, tests the water, checks the pipes one last time and then lets out a celebratory cheer that Isabelle matches when she joins him to see the water running, with no leak in sight. She wraps him in a quick hug that sends his pulse racing and then, before he can truly appreciate it, pulls away to focus on whatever odd thing it is she has boiling in a pot.

Simon takes that moment to begin cleaning, like he promised he would. And it truly isn’t as big of a mess as Isabelle thought it was, it just looks that way because there are paper towels scattered all around from her attempts at cleaning the leak. He washes dishes, dries them and then asks her where they go, which she answers by pointing her spatula at the cabinet behind him. Things feel oddly comfortable between them, even though this is only their second time officially meeting. It’s nice.

He’s putting away the last glass when he feels her approach him from behind, tapping him lightly on his shoulder blade. She holds a plate of food in one hand, covered with saran wrap. “Payment for your services.”

Simon eyes the food cautiously and nervously takes the plate from her. “You really didn’t have to. I don’t want to take away from your family.”

“I made plenty,” she counters. “New Lightwood recipes this time, so you’ll have to tell me which ones are a hit and which ones are a miss. No sparing my feelings, either. I need honest reviews.”

He suddenly regrets not being honest about the mac and cheese. He feels like it might be too late to ever recover from that and if this ever gets past the handyman phase, he’ll be stuck eating that mac and cheese forever.

“And don’t worry,” she cuts in, interrupting his thoughts, “I know you lied about my macaroni to make me feel better.”

“What?” he says, voice slightly off kilter, not fooling anybody, much less Isabelle.

Her mouth goes into a tight line and she narrows her eyes at him, hand on her hip. “I figured it out when I noticed hardly anyone ate it and then when Alec came over and proceeded to gag dramatically at the first bite.”

Simon winces. “Sheesh. Harsh critic.”

“Older brother,” she retorts with a shrug. “It was sweet of you to pretend though.”

Simon gestures vaguely with his hands, he’ll be damned if he admits just how disgusting it was but now that he’s been saved from having to pretend to like it, he’s not going to counter Alec’s argument. “I would hate to kill an aspiring chef’s dreams.”

She laughs. “Don’t worry, my brothers have that handled already. I’ll prove them wrong though.”

Simon sniffs at the plate of food in his hand. It actually smells pretty decent. “I’ll text you my verdict.”

“I look forward to it.”

_One week later_

Simon is comfortably tucked in his bed, scrolling through an endless stream of atrocious neckbeards on a Reddit forum, trying and failing to fall asleep despite the late hour. He’s only beginning to get a little sleepy but he can’t seem to stop paying attention to random scratching he hears that seems to be coming from every wall around him. It comes and goes; sometimes it’s soft and other times it’s loud. He groans and slams his phone down on the bed beside him and sits up, kicking his blankets off as he climbs out of his bed. He checks the floors around his room to see if there’s paper or something that could be rustling causing the sound but turns up empty. He goes to the corner by his book shelf and pushes aside the chair holding a mound of laundry. He’s leaning over the back of the chair when a shadow scurries by his fingertips. He yelps and runs back to his bed, grabbing his phone and running to the kitchen.

“There’s a rat. There’s a rat. There’s a rat.” He scrambles to his pantry and grabs the broom. “There’s a fucking rat in my room.”

He can hear it now. The squeaking chirps of the rodent and his skin clams up. He really fucking hates rats.

There’s a rustling of paper and another squeak and he gulps because now the rat is loose in his room and he’s standing in his boxers, holding a broom in one hand and clutching his phone tightly in the other. He takes a deep breath and then lets it out in a long sigh. “Okay, I got this. It’s just a rat.”

The hardwood floors are cold as he creeps back into his bedroom and slams the light switch up into the ‘on’ position. The room flares up in a flood of light and he catches a black shape rush behind his bed with a loud squeak. Or maybe that’s him making the sound because he’s running out of his room and is standing in his entryway, fumbling with his phone trying to find his landlord ‘Imasu’ in his contacts while also trying to unlock the door so he can leave this apartment and never return.

The phone rings against his ear and he hears a cup fall in his room and a voice groggily mutter a _hello._

_“_ Hi, yes, this is Simon. Apartment 8D. There is a _rat_ ”—he really hopes he stresses that word hard enough—“running around my room. It’s loud and knocking things over and this building is supposed to be rat free and I really need you to come and get this taken care of because I can’t…I can’t go back in there. I have an allergy! Yes, a really, really bad, deadly rat allergy. Can’t go near them. I’ll swell up.”

_“Simon?”_ The voice is soft and very distinctly not his landlord Imasu’s accented voice. He feels clammy all over again but for an entirely different reason. He pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the screen, already knowing what he’s going to see but he needs to check just to be sure.

Isabelle. To say he’s mortified would be an understatement.

_“Simon, are you okay?”_ she asks when he doesn’t say anything after her first inquiry.

“Isabelle, yes, I’m fine. I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to call you. I was trying to call Imasu and his number is right by yours—”

_“Simon, Simon, it’s okay. You sound like you have a problem. Did you say there’s a rat in your apartment?”_

“Yes. In my room.”

_“Hm.”_ The line goes quiet for a moment and he can hear her moving around in her bed. _“I’ll be right there,”_ she says eventually and then hangs up before Simon can tell her not to bother.

“Son of a bitch,” Simon mutters, staring down at his phone and the contact list where Imasu’s name sits directly above Isabelle’s. He jumps when he hears something else fall down in his apartment and he swallows hard, trying to wash down the fear that grips him.

“Simon,” Isabelle says and he turns to see her standing at the staircase, floral robe tied around her waist. She bites back a smile as she takes him in and he glances down at himself, the sobering reality that he’s standing in the hallway outside of his apartment in his boxers, clutching a broom tightly in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Isabelle,” he breathes out. “You didn’t have to come up here. I’m capable of handling this.”

“I see that,” she says with a giggle when she approaches him and gently coaxes the broom out of his grip. “But…you do have a really, really deadly rat allergy,” she quotes him, “so why don’t you let me take care of this?”

He flinches again when the sound of another cup falls. He really needs to clean his nightstand off because apparently the rat is having a field day with his empty cups. Isabelle walks confidently into his apartment, holding the broom in front of her like a weapon. She looks over her shoulder at him and points in the direction of his bedroom. He nods at her and then slowly eases his way into the apartment when she rounds the corner. He waits for her at the end of the hallway, he can see her in his room, looking all around and listening closely. Of all the ways he fantasized about getting Isabelle in his room, this was not one of them. This is actually the worst way he can introduce the girl he likes to his home and his bedroom.

Hello, yes, this is my home. Welcome, hope you enjoy your stay with the rats. He groans and rubs at the tension at his temples.

“Simon?” Isabelle calls from his room. “I don’t want to alarm you but I’m about to chase this rat out there. Can you open your balcony door?”

Simon tenses and then nods, running to the balcony and throwing the door open. “Got it.” He runs and jumps onto the couch, standing on the cushions when the loud smack of the broom comes from his room and then the scratching of the brush bristles across his hardwoods. The rat’s squeaking, the broom is scratching, Isabelle is groaning, and then they’re all in the living room. The rat runs across with Isabelle close on its tail, guiding it towards the open doors of the balcony, she manages to brush the rodent outside and then slams the sliding door shut. Her hair is a mess over her face and she heaves out a tired pant before planting the broom on the floor and looking up at Simon, smiling proudly.

“Well, Simon Lewis, it looks like I just saved your life.” She smiles proudly and then holds a hand out to him that he takes, not because he needs help but because it’s Isabelle and she’s offering, and hops down from the couch.

“You did. How can I repay you?”

“Hm.” She brushes her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the tangled mess it’s become.

“Stay for a drink?” he suggests. He knows it’s entirely way too late and he’s pretty sure he woke her up with his rat hysterics but he feels wide awake right now and he honestly doesn’t want to go back to his room where he will undoubtedly lay wide awake thinking about how he’s going to have to deep clean the room tomorrow.

Her eyes widen at the offer and then she shrugs a shoulder. “Why not? I’m suddenly not tired anymore.”

He laughs. “I’m really sorry about that. I would have never called you this late, over a rat no less.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “You were in distress. How could I not come and help? Besides, you helped me with my leaky faucet. Thereby saving me from having to wait for weeks for Imasu to eventually get to it,” she finishes this with an exasperated roll of her eyes. Their landlord is the worst.

He ushers her towards his kitchen where he finds a bottle of wine already chilled in his refrigerator and pours them each a slightly bigger serving than what’s considered normal for a glass of wine. She seems to notice this because her eyes widen a fraction and a teasing smile curls her lips before she raises her glass up.

“To saving each other’s lives,” she toasts.

“To saving each other’s lives,” he repeats and taps his glass against hers.

They each take tentative sips in silence. It’s a strange thing having a near stranger whom you’re attracted to in your home, past midnight, post rat rescue, both in your pajamas—Simon’s face blanches when he remembers that he is very clearly standing in nothing but a white t-shirt and his plaid boxers. Isabelle at least managed to throw on a robe over whatever sleeping attire she normally wears that he can’t see but Simon… Simon got so swept up in the rat frenzy that he completely forgot to put something decent on. He finishes the mouthful of wine with a slow gulp and tries to think of the best and least obvious way to excuse himself and then come back fully clothed.

He sets his wine glass down and tugs down on his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m not dressed, I wasn’t expecting...well—”

“The rat?” she asks.

“I was gonna say you but yeah, the rat too, I guess.”

She giggles and her eyes drift down to his boxers and then she sips slowly at her wine before looking up at him. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

If spontaneous combustion was a thing, Simon would have spontaneously combusted right here on the spot. Instead, he just turns bright red and feels as if the room has reached hellfire levels of hot. His face is scorching and he drains a long drink of his wine.

“I uh—”

“Did you—”

Simon stops with a chuckle and gestures at her. “Sorry, you go ahead.”

Isabelle licks her lips in a slow trail and then laughs softly, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. “I was going to ask if you wanted to sit out on the balcony but then I remembered the rat.”

Simon chuckles nervously. “Yeah, I might be avoiding my balcony for the next ten months.”

She rests a light hand on his forearm. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine by tomorrow. The rat will climb down or do whatever it is rats do.”

“Portal.”

“What?” She laughs.

Simon takes a drink of his wine and sets his glass down. “I think they probably have portaling abilities. How else do you explain a rat ending up in my room on the eighth floor?”

“They are excellent climbers.”

“Portals,” he says at the same time and she laughs loudly, covering her mouth and then nodding with a relenting shrug.

“Portals it is then.”

“You want to have a seat?” he blurts out and tips his head in the direction of the sofa across the room. “Unless you’re ready to go back to bed, in which case, I completely understand. Well, even if you just didn’t want to, I’d understand. You can do what you want, I don’t want you to think I expect otherwise.”

She tips her head and stares at him with her brows pinched in the middle and a playful smile on her lips. “Do you always ramble like that?”

Simon lets out a breath, still painfully aware that her hand has not left his arm. “On occasion.”

Isabelle giggles. “I’d love to sit with you, Simon.” She lets her hand trail down his arm and over his hand as she walks away towards his sofa.

He takes in a breath, settling the nerves that are infuriatingly obvious. Meanwhile, Isabelle calmly and confidently has a seat in the middle of the three seater sofa. He chooses the seat beside her, carefully adjusting his boxers so that nothing pops out where it’s not supposed to. She makes a similar adjustment to her robe and then brushes her hair over one shoulder. Simon takes this minute to really look at her. Her face devoid of makeup, slightly dark circles under her eyes, her hair is tangled on one side, but none of it makes her look any less beautiful. If anything, Simon isn’t sure he’s ever seen such true beauty in all his life. She’s beautiful with and without makeup, hair up or down, soaking wet or dry and warm. Isabelle is perfect in every single way.

“What are you looking at?” She brushes a nonexistent strand of hair away from her face and shifts in her seat.

“Oh, nothing, I was just… lost there for a minute.”

She looks down into her wine, her brows curve pensively and then she’s looking at him again, leaning one elbow on the back of the sofa, turned in to face him. “So tell me more about you, Simon Lewis.”

He quickly goes over the basics of his life: his sister Becky, his mom, what he does for a living, his passion for playing the guitar, all the odd names of his teenage garage band, the graphic novel he started writing with Clary in high school, and even about pets he had while growing up. Throughout his entire speech, Isabelle listens and laughs at all the right times, genuine laughs that she covers her mouth for at times. She tells him about her family, her brothers, about Alec specifically, and she beams with affection when she talks about them all. She explains what she does for a living, which doesn’t come as a surprise for Simon to hear that she owns a dance studio. He’s about to mention how he’s seen her and Alec dancing before but stops when she covers her mouth to yawn.

The clock on the wall over her head shows that it’s nearing two in the morning, their wine glasses have long been empty and yet, she’s stayed. She lays back a little, nuzzles her head onto one of the throw pillows, and then large brown eyes, heavy with sleep, look up at him. “Did you ever finish your graphic novel?”

“We did. Only one volume though.” Simon adjusts himself on the sofa and Isabelle takes the opportunity to bring her legs up onto the cushions, curling them up against her. He knows he should let her get home but she looks warm and comfortable and he’s warm and comfortable, and selfishly wants to spend every second he can with her.

“What was it about?” she asks, her eyes fluttering sleepily.

“It was about angelic warriors who fight demons in the streets of New York,” he explains and then he’s yawning as well.

She hums, eyes closed now. “Sounds pretty cool. I’d like to read it.”

“I’ll find it for you.” Simon closes his eyes, and leans into the cushions of his sofa on the opposite end of Isabelle, sleep winning out in the end.

 

_Two days later_

_“Hi, Simon,”_ Isabelle says when he answers the phone.

“Izzy, hey!” Simon hits the heel of his hand against his forehead. Izzy? Really? She never gave him clearance on using a nickname. He stops himself from apologizing, that usually just makes things more awkward so he really just silently hopes he didn’t pick a name she hates.

_“I was wondering if you could come down for a minute? I have a light bulb I can’t reach that just blew,”_ she says breezily, not even missing a beat over the nickname.

A light bulb seems like a trivial thing to ask for help with, after all, it’s not like the ceilings in these apartments are _that_ high but Simon does need an excuse to see her again so he’s going to take it. “I’ll be right there.”

The other night had been completely unexpected but perfect all the same. They’d woken up on the couch together, each on opposite sides of course. And she had smiled dreamily at him with the sunshine pouring in through the balcony doors, bathing her in the glowing light. She muttered a groggy _good morning_ and then stretched before straightening her leg out to nudge him with her toe. “ _Coffee?”_ she’d inquired and everything had gone perfectly from there. Laughs over breakfast, hesitant goodbyes on what Simon believes was both their sides. He’d wanted to ask her to do something that day but didn’t after she mentioned going to see her mother.

That was two days ago and now, Isabelle waits for him in the hallway, her back against her front door, a light bulb resting in her grip. She’s barefoot, hair pulled up in a bun and she’s wearing an over-sized sweatshirt with athletic leggings underneath. Yet again, without even trying, she’s a vision.

“The cost for a light bulb change is dinner, I hope you know,” he jokes, plucking the light bulb from her hand and following her into her apartment.

“Really?” she questions and then scoffs. “Wow, your prices have really gone up. I seem to recall having my leak fixed for the cost of dinner.”

“Supply and demand. If I don’t change this bulb for you, you’ll be forced to sit in the dark.” The apartment is clearly well lit and the chandelier that needs a bulb replaced isn’t even that high but he plays along.

She snatches the light bulb from him. “Or… I could just”—she drags a dining room chair over and then climbs on top, raising a defiant brow at him—“change it myself.”

“Hm… I guess you could. But then, what was the point of calling me?”

She ignores his question and rises on her tiptoes. The chair wobbles beneath her weight and Simon quickly reaches out to steady her, hands on her thighs. She screws in the bulb and then looks down at him with a smirk.

“I guess so you could save me from falling,” she answers cheekily.

“I see. Then I guess my work here is done,” he says, not even bothering to hide the reluctance he feels.

She reaches down for his hand and hops down into the small space between the chair and himself. His breath hitches at the closeness, the way her hand feels small and delicate in his own, her breath that’s tinted with the scent of something sweet hitting him when she lands with a soft huff. She keeps their hands together, the soft skin of her fingers sliding against his own just barely tangling.

“Stay for dinner anyway?” She tilts her head back to look up at him. And, god, she’s so close Simon could just kiss her now like he’s been dreaming of. But he can’t. They barely know each other, she couldn’t possibly want him to do that. But then, he feels her fingers playfully brush between his own, maybe she wouldn’t mind.

He swallows heavy. He’ll wait until he knows for a fact the time is right. “If you insist.”

She blushes. “I do.”

 

_The next day_

Magnus sits on top of Simon’s counter, carefully reading over the results of a test they ran the day before. He highlights something and then taps the highlighter against his chin as he continues to read. Simon shifts from leaning all of his weight on his left foot to his right. This is how they work together, Magnus usually goes over the results first and then Simon comes in behind him with the second opinion, picking up on anything Magnus may have missed. They haven’t had to bring work home in a while but they both agreed today that this was important enough to justify bringing it back to work on over dinner.

Magnus drags the marker across the page again and without looking up lets out a tired sigh. “Just spit it out, Simon. I can’t focus on work with you rocking back and forth like that.”

“I’m not—” Simon stops himself because he realizes that he hasn’t actually stopped shifting his weight from side to side. “Fine. I think there might be something going on with Izzy.”

Magnus peers up at him over the rim of his glasses. “You’ve got my attention.”

“What?” Simon throws his arm out towards Magnus. “I was hoping you’d know something. You’re dating her brother for crying out loud.”

“We are dating and we do often cry out loud.” Magnus smirks at him. “Not that that’s relevant to this conversation.”

Simon grimaces. “I don’t need to hear about your sex life with Alec or how he’s probably built like a damn Greek statue. I’m good.”

Magnus shrugs. “I didn’t say any of that but it’s nice to know you can appreciate Alexander’s exquisite physique.”

Simon scoffs. “Appreciate and also be a bit jealous of it.”

Magnus sighs appreciatively and takes a sip of his wine. “Don’t worry, I’m sure beneath that Star Wars t-shirt you’ve got something to offer the lovely Isabelle.”

Simon taps his fingers atop the counter. “About that… she hasn’t said anything to Alec?”

Magnus watches him over the rim of his glass. “All he’s mentioned is that the two of you have been helping each other with house stuff lately.”

“Mhm,” Simon hums.

“Is that not all?”

Simon shakes his head. “I mean, technically that’s all it’s been but it’s been a bit more than that. I mean, yesterday she asked me over to change a light bulb and then ended up changing it out herself and asking me to stay for dinner.”

Magnus’ eyes widen as he swallows his wine. “She’s into you!”

“You think?” Simon rubs at the back of his neck. “I mean, what if she’s just being a good neighbor?”

“Simon, do you really think a woman as beautiful and smart as Isabelle Lightwood would ask you, some dork who lives in her building, to come over and ‘change a light bulb’”—Magnus uses finger quotes for emphasis—“and then stay for dinner just because it was beautiful day in the neighborhood?”

“I—”

“ _Or_ do you think that maybe, just maybe, she likes you because you’re handsome and sweet and she wants you to be a handyman for more than just her apartment?” Magnus finishes, waggling his brows at Simon.

“Don’t… don’t bring up Mr. Roger’s beautiful neighborhood and then immediately follow that up with a sex euphemism.” Simon shudders. “Logically, though, I know you’re right. I guess I just needed to talk it out, muster up the courage to actually do something about it.”

Magnus raises his glass to Simon. “Do it. But maybe once we’re done with work.”

“Okay. Tomorrow then.” Simon blows out a breath and with it his nerves. Tomorrow he’ll finally do what he’s wanted to do for months now. He’ll ask out his beautiful neighbor who loves to dance on her balcony.

 

_The next day - Thursday_

It’s been a long day at work, Simon is mentally exhausted from reading so many reports and trying to figure things out with Magnus but at long last, the work day is over, he refused to bring any work home - intent on relaxing and maybe asking Izzy out, if he can work up the energy and the nerve. He’s standing in front of his refrigerator, staring at the unappetizing choices of either leftover Thai or a bag of grapes. Neither, is what he’s leaning towards. He sighs and digs out the menus he keeps in a drawer beside the fridge; take-out it is.

His phone pings in his pocket and he sets the menus down to fish it out, swiping on the new message from Izzy, a hopeless grin replacing the exhaustion he just felt.

_I need your help with something. Meet me in the hallway?_

He stuffs the menus back in their drawer and sends her back a message. _Omw._

He’s not gonna say that inviting each other over for help with things they could easily do themselves (excluding her leaky faucet and the rat) is their thing but it’s quickly becoming their thing. He’s certain now that Magnus was right, as he often is, in his assumption that Izzy probably feels the same way about him as he does her. He’s not sure how much she feels but there’s something. Enough for her to want him to come over again tonight after having spent time with him just two days ago. He descends the stairs and finds Izzy in the hallway wearing a simple red dress with a skirt that flows down to her knees. She smiles at him with red painted lips and takes a step forwards.

“Considering your state of dryness, I’m assuming you don’t need help with a flood kitchen again. What’s going on?”

She glances down at herself and then back up at him, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger. “My brother called and apparently Magnus wanted to go see some show tonight so he’s not coming over.”

“Oh.” It’s Thursday, that’s right, Alec’s usually over here then. Simon nods along, not quite seeing what this has to do with him. “What can I do for you?”

She dips her chin down and Simon is certain he sees her face turn pink in the apples of her cheeks. She takes in a breath and meets his eyes. “Well, you see… Alec normally comes over on Thursday nights and we have dinner and we dance.”

Simon smiles, remembering all the Thursday nights he spent watching her and Alec dance on the balcony. And now that he listens closely, he can hear the music coming from the partly opened door to her apartment. “I know.”

She flushes again. “Of course you do.”

Simon feels a little embarrassed, he knows he’s pretty obvious but he hasn’t really taken into account _how_ obvious he must be to her. She doesn’t say this in a mean way, instead it’s spoken with endearment.

“He can’t come tonight, so I need your help,” she repeats again, trailing off at the end, eyeing him as if she wants him to fill in the blanks for her. He knows how he wants to fill in those blanks but anxiety kicks in, that constant worry that he’s reading too much into everything. Fear, that he’s going to make a fool of himself and ruin whatever friendship they’ve formed.

“Simon.” She steps in closer and brings a hand up to his shoulder, running it down the length of his arm, warmth gliding over his biceps and down to his palm where she links their hands together and pulls herself in, placing his hand on her waist. “Will you dance with me?”

His body comes alive at holding her in his arms like this, every ounce of exhaustion leaves him with just her touch. He can feel his heart pounding violently in his chest as he takes her other hand in his and watches her smile grow. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She shakes her head at him and pulls herself in against his chest, laying her head where it reaches - not quite on his shoulder but just below, in the crook of his neck. She begins to move side to side, starting their dance and he takes the hint, leading her in the only steps of a slow dance he knows, thanks to his mother. The music plays distantly from her apartment, barely loud enough to hear but in the silence of the hallway, it’s just enough. He suspects she hadn’t intended on asking him to dance out here but somehow, with the way things have gone between them over the past few weeks, and all the times they’ve met in this hallway, this feels right.

She takes in a deep breath and hums as she exhales against the neck of his skin. “Have dinner with me,” she whispers between them.

“Dance, dinner, whatever you want,” he whispers back, tucking his nose down into the crown of her hair. He can feel her smile against him, pressing herself as close as she can and he lets her, wrapping the arm around her waist in more of an embrace than a proper stance.

They dance for two songs, only side-stepping out of the way when a neighbor passes by and stopping when the song eventually fades to silence before the next one begins. She pulls her head back from its spot against him and leans her weight into the cradle of his arms. Simon holds her in his arms and allows himself this moment of quiet to take all of her in, the floral scent of her perfume, the deep brown of her eyes, the soft curves beneath his palms, her golden tanned skin, her lips parted and inviting.

“I would really like to kiss you right now, Isabelle,” he admits.

Her lips rub together and her eyes drop to his mouth. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

She smiles at him and lifts her chin, her eyes fluttering dark lashes shut. Simon closes the distance and can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips when he finally kisses her. She smiles against him and twines her arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. He kisses her with every ounce of passion he’s held inside since the first time he laid eyes on her, and she sighs into the kiss, softly opening her mouth for him. Her lips are sweet, her tongue warm and rich, an inebriating taste that sends his heart hammering when she slides her tongue against his and softly whimpers. His breath stutters and she giggles, pulling back to reveal red smeared lips. She takes her thumb and swipes it against his bottom lip.

“Let’s go inside,” she says, voice breathy and soft. “We can’t really have our first date in the hallway, can we?”

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write these two, so I hope you enjoyed this little story between them. 
> 
> A big thank you to Lu for being my beta, always <3
> 
> -xoxo
> 
> J


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